A Daughter to the World

Recently, a friend posted a picture on his Facebook page. The picture was of an alcoholic man who was asleep on the sidewalk outside my friends house in Guatemala. (The above picture is not my friends pic--gotta respect his privacy--but it's close enough.) In the comments that followed, a debate developed on whether alcohol is bad in and of itself. Here's my response:


ALCOHOL VS ALCOHOLIC

As far as the specific point you're trying to make about alcohol, I'd rather not comment on it. I do, however, want to say something more on the topic of the ALCOHOLIC. On my mission I came across a man who was asleep face down on the porch of his house. After awaking and turning to us, we (my companion and I) saw he had a dog bite on part of his eye and cheek. There was blood all over his cheek, some of which was starting to dry. (I promise this is not a Halloween story.)

Despite my companions argument that "There's no way our message will get through to him," we went into his house and taught him. A few minutes later, his little daughter quietly walked into the living room, walked to him in little, innocence-filled steps, hugged him, and said, "Papá, al fin llegaste. Te extrañé." ("Dad, you finally came. I missed you.") He started crying and said, "Por ella voy a cambiar." ("For her I'm going to change.")

Months later, a different man ran into me while I was serving in another area. He was a well groomed, clean, and healthy man. (I can't say a Latter-day Saint man, but that's not my point anyway.) He said he knew me and he was treating me like I was one of his life-long friends. After realizing I simply did not recognize him, he said, "Hermano, yo soy aquel hombre con la mordida de perro en la cara que era alcohólico." ("Brother, I am that man with the dogbite on his face who was an alcoholic.") It was then that I realized, "This really was the man the little girl (his daughter) could always see."

My point? The picture posted is of a person, not a bottle. So easy to forget that. And even easier to believe some people are beyond hope. While we don't all demonstrate it, we all want a better life. I hope that man found a "daughter" on time.

Smile Even With Your Liver

Recently I've had a heartbreak that has caused a lot of sadness, confusion, and loneliness. If you know me, you know I am one of those people who realizes happiness is not an event, but the result of real, personal, conscious effort. So to say I'm working overtime to get over this heartbreak is an understatement--I want to be happy again! HAPPIER THAN I WAS BEFORE!

It's been said one can smile with the liver. At least in the book I am currently reading, "EAT, PRAY, LOVE" by Elizabeth Gilbert. While being taught to meditate, an old, happy medicine man teaches her "the most easy way to meditate." He tells her to sit and smile--smile with all her being, "smile even with your liver." So today, I sat and smiled with my liver.

I had originally planned to go to the nearby track and run a mile under the sun--(you know, Vitamin D gets me in a good mood)--but then it started raining as I was walking there. Then, I thought I would go sit at the middle school right next to the track, and read (since I took my book with me anyway for after the run.) I figured I'd just sit in a covered area. Then, I saw there were a bunch of kids there doing who knows what. So I had to walk home without my run, without my read.

When I got home, I realized that what I was looking for at the track--being in nature, relaxing by reading, and meditating--could all be done at my house. I have a beautifully green front yard, and two large trees. So instead of coming in my house, I sat under one of those treas and started reading. It was great to read this book I love so much, but all I could think was, "I need to smile with my liver." I put the book down, and started what at that moment I would call, "quote on quote 'meditation."'

Not thinking it would be real meditation, I still did it because I just wanted to FEEL a smile that powerfully. I smiled with my mouth, and really tried to feel it in my gut. Then I realized, "wait, I need to smile with ALL my face, not just the mouth." So I tried to smile with my forehead and my eyes, then my cheeks and even my chin. As I was all smiley, I started looking around me, observing.

There was a large mountain ahead that never seemed so captivating. Though it was far, it was close. But even closer to it were some lush, green trees. They were the trees on the block next to mine. Then, even closer, I noticed the soft, cushioned green grass in my front yard. The grass I was sitting on. Then, as I looked up, I saw above me a powerful, strong-willed tree, "planted" in its path in life. And I was leaning on it. I couldn't help but feel how beautiful this Earth is... and all I could think was, "I bet God feels a sense of accomplishment for sticking with it for so long."

I begin trying to find the lesson in all this that is around me. Knowing that I am at the epicenter of beauty and that I must be changed by it, I begin trying to find the parallel between myself and this Earth; between my pursuit of happiness and Gods beautiful Earth. Still not realizing what it means to be at the "epicenter," a good amount of knowledge does come, "It took God hundreds of years to create this, but, damn, look what resulted! Like the tree I lean on, I must remain planted in my path in life. Happiness. Love."

Still smiling, but now in a real way, I decided I wanted to continue observing. I had already looked in front of, behind, to the sides, below and even above me. So, after taking another glance at the grass near me, I realized the only place left to look at was... me. The epicenter. I started by looking at my legs. Somehow that was enough to observe all of me. And without even realizing it, a thought from outside of me came, "This beauty is in me too."

Smile even with your liver.

"Oh Mom, It Was So Easy."

Oprah, who happens to be one of my heroins and role models, share's a story of a dying son who's last words to his mother were, "Oh Mom, it was so easy." The son and mother had been suffering with his illness for one year until it overtook him. Yet he lets his mom know it was easy. I'd like to talk of two very powerful things this taught me about living.

For the living, we often think our life is too hard--or better yet, that we are too week. But regardless of how many times we wonder why us, we need to realize its not that hard. In other words, we need to realize how easy it is... if we only realize how strong WE are. And its not even about being optimistic, it is about being REALISTIC.

For years now, I have regretted greatly not trusting my mother with... me. I did not allow her to be the best friend of the real me. I never communicated to her as I really am, and I have truly and profoundly regretted that. Lamentably, I realized that after she died. I realized she would have been the only person to understand, accept and adequately support and befriend me. But today, that lamentation has changed.

As I heard Oprah say the words of the dying son, I heard them said in the voice of my mother, "Oh son, it was so easy." As I type this, I find myself crying tears of relief. I KNOW she is in this room with me. Madre, te quiero.

And my mother has told me, "Instead of living in regret for not having a better relationship with me, realize your problems are 'so easy.' BE happy! Realize your so-called problem is meant for your happiness. And most of all, realize it is so easy NOW--not in hindsight!"

Mother, it IS easy. :)